


A Quiet Homecoming

by Cometra



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5398508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cometra/pseuds/Cometra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dragonborn returns to Breezehome after a three-week long expedition. She and Vilkas inform each other of what occurred during her time away, asking all the questions that need to be answered... but the Dragonborn has one heavy question she must ask the Companion. Of course... that can wait. It can wait until they're done making love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Quiet Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> **NSFW CONTENT. This is entirely smut and fluff.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> While studying for finals, I decided to burn some stress by writing this. It became an exercise for me that centered around writing an intimate scene that became smutty.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Vilkas heard his wife's soft giggles from the sitting room. Like bells stirred by a gentle summer breeze. She was speaking with Lydia, discussing some previous expedition or another. No doubt she would soon mount the flight of stairs, round the corner, and, pausing at the bedroom threshold, greet him with an excess of enthusiasm.

He loved her. The Harbinger, the Dragonborn, the woman. She possessed multiple titles and honorifics, all of which became meaningless when she drew him to her. When they were together, reading at the fireside, or when they locked the door to their chambers and made love, he only saw her as his partner and equal.

He heard her dash up the flight of stairs and knock over the usual vase. Lydia, as per the norm, called up to ensure her Thane was safe. She received a positive affirmation.

Instead of glancing up from his book when he heard her footsteps halt at the doorway, Vilkas waited.

"I'm home," she said, breathless.

"Arellea," he replied, setting the tome onto the table.

The lass stood there in armor dented and caked in dried blood. Her face was covered with dirt, and her hair was tangled and disheveled by the wind. Yet her eyes still shined with the same fierce light that he remembered from those many years ago. The time from before she was Harbinger, when she was but a recruit. A whelp. Those few months where he watched her, suspiciously, from afar. It wasn't uncommon for a potential recruit of the Companions to leave within the first few weeks, perhaps not fully aware of what dangers were associated with the warriors. Only in it for the glory, but never the hardship. While the others were willing to welcome newcomers, regardless of how temporary their stay turned out to be, Vilkas maintained a strict reservation.

Arellea proved to be infuriatingly tenacious. After a month's residence in Jorrvaskr, most everyone figured the whelp was there to stay. And she did. And he fell for her. Hard.

Vilkas stood and approached her. She looked up at him, her eyes glinting impishly in the candlelight and her mouth twitching into a smirk. There was a moment's pause, and then she was lifted into his arms in a tight embrace. 

They shared a kiss that was three weeks in the making. Arellea curled her hands into his thick hair, her lips against his with a passion that burned low in his gut. She bit his lower lip, hearing him rasp out a soft growl that was thick with his lust. Her armor weighed her down some, the usual leathers forgone for more substantial protection. Otherwise, he would have held her longer.

"Any injuries?" he asked. He guided her towards the bed, setting her gently down on the edge before proceeding to unlace her boots.

"A few bruises. I healed the worst of it," she said.

He nodded. "Any bounties?"

"I'm insulted, love! No. I trip over one bloody chicken on one mission and _that_ suddenly becomes the second thing you ask me?" She lifted her foot so he could slip the boot off.

He chuckled softly. He started on her left vambrace, unbuckling and setting it aside.

"Do you want me to find your nightclothes?" he asked, kissing her bare hand. 

"Only if you're too tired for us to greet each other properly." Her words were laced with sensuality.

He chuckled. "I don't think that will be a problem, love."

Vilkas helped Arellea to her feet and started on the buckles and ties of her breastplate. The ebony was gilded by golden candlelight.

"Did you eat?" he asked.

"Twice a day." She waited patiently for him to completely remove the plate. Even after these many years of donning armor on a day to day basis and becoming accustomed to the time invested in doing so, Vilkas enjoyed the deliberate slowness he employed in undressing his wife of her own. He refused to be deprived of this one ritual.

He undid the fastenings of her chainmail, lifting that layer over her shoulders. He laid kisses over the exposed flesh of her neck, smiling when he heard Arellea mewl softly. A chain encircled her neck and glowed like quicksilver. The pendant itself was tarnished by the passing of years and the warmth of her body. A simple thing with a chip of garnet shaped into a rose set at its center… his first gift to her. Eorlund was kind enough to provide him with a discount, knowing the pay of a Companion –even one of the Inner Circle- was paltry. Resting beside the pendant was her wedding band.

He slid his hands beneath her padded tunic, and eased it over her head. Her undershirt was drenched with perspiration, clinging to and betraying the swell of her breasts.

"How are the Companions?" she asked him.

"They are well." He retrieved the washbasin of steaming water from its place atop the dresser, dipping and wringing out a wash cloth.

Arellea closed and locked the bedroom door. She turned to him, serene in the evening quiet.

"Any trouble that I should know about?" she asked.

She raised her arms over her head as Vilkas directed. Her husband peeled the shirt from her back and promptly discarded it onto the floor. He played with the ties of her breast band, finally removing it. That was tossed into the growing pile of clothing. Her nipples grew pert with the chill of the room.

"No more than what the Companions are used to," he told her. He wiped the grime from her face, marveling over the gentle nuances of her features. A stray freckle over her left eyebrow, or the small mole on her neck. The dimples marking her cheeks.

"Did you eat?" she asked him.

He slid the cloth down the column of her neck, gently lifting one arm from her side to clean away the sweat and grime. He repeated the process on her other half as well.

"Yes. Three times a day," he said in reply.

He dipped the cloth into the bowl, wringing it of excess water. He resumed bathing her, slowing his ministrations to an agonizing pace. Moving one hand down the slope of her left breast, he paused to circle his thumb around her nipple. Arellea bit down on a moan. Vilkas continued to clean her back and stomach while teasing her breasts. She spoke breathlessly, begging for him not to stop. His head drifted to rest against her neck, where he pressed open-mouthed kisses over the expanse of skin.

"Did the Jarl send for me?" she asked, a gasp bursting from her lips when his kissing became a sharp suckling, the slight graze of his teeth on her skin enough to make her legs quiver.

"Letter on your nightstand," he replied. "Request to dine with him and his family tomorrow is what the messenger said."

Vilkas undid the ties of Arellea's trousers, tugging down on the article of clothing until it fell away completely. Her small clothes were handled in a similar fashion. He went to his knees before her, taking a new cloth from the dresser and wetting it in the basin.

"Did you find any dragons?" he asked her.

At his gentle request, a tap on the side of her leg, Arellea widened her stance. Vilkas washed away the sweat and grime settled in the juncture of her legs, all the while kissing the inside of her thigh. He let the cloth drift to her slit, where he slowly stroked her, the fabric falling away and his calloused finger taking its place. She swallowed back a moan.

"Just two," she replied.

He nodded. Vilkas cleaned away the grime on her calves. He leaned closer, pressing a kiss first to the gentle swell of her stomach, all the while letting his lips drift closer to her core. Finally abandoning the cloth into the pile of dirty clothes, Vilkas moved one finger to Arellea's entrance, teasing and caressing. The long three weeks of absence left her sensitive to his touch. She was already wet, pliable in his hands.

His mouth found her clit, and he circled the small pearl with his tongue. Arellea's knee buckled, and he moved his spare hand up to steady her.

"Did you sleep?" he asked her, pulling back briefly… much to his wife's frustration.

"When it was safe," she replied. Not entirely pleased with her answer, Vilkas remained motionless. He slid his finger inside of her, curling it against her inner walls. She moaned.

"When was it safe?" he asked.

"V-Vilkas," she stuttered his name. His cock twitched with arousal. "Most every night," she said, her words tumbling out with a second, louder moan. "There were three nights where I didn't sleep at all. I-I f-found an inn and rested for the three days after."

Her husband lowered his mouth to her clit once more, taking it between his lips and sucking firmly. Her whole body trembled as her pleasure built. Arellea cried out, her words lost in breathy little gasps that encouraged him to continue. He doubled the pace he set with his finger, watching her gradually come undone under his touch.

As her inner walls clenched around his finger, and her quim wet her inner thighs with pleasure, Vilkas continued to quicken his finger inside her and tease her pearl with the tip of his tongue. Arellea reached her climax, stumbling to maintain her balance. She gripped onto his shoulders as her orgasm wracked through her body.

He pulled back finally, lips glistening with her release. The sight of her, completely undone and left incoherent from her pleasure had his length hardening and straining in his trousers. He rose, coming to be a full head taller than her.

Still holding his shoulders, Arellea rose up onto the balls of her feet, and captured his lips with hers in a searing hot kiss.

"Did you sleep?" she asked, nipping his lower lip.

He chuckled. Her hands were drifting beneath his shirt. With feather-light touches, she traced his toned stomach and torso. As he pulled back to remove his shirt, Vilkas answered.

"When time permitted," he said, tossing aside the simple tunic. A chain identical to Arellea's hung from his neck, simple in craft, but with a complex enchantment interwoven in the links of silver. His own wedding ring hung from the necklace, making it not so easily pilfered by a thief or bandit.

"Oh?" She eased a hand into his pants, taking his cock into a firm, but not painful, hold. Her touch was maddening. As Arellea stroked up his length, Vilkas groaned.

"By Ysmir," he growled. He rutted into her hand, and, even after three years of marriage, found himself mortified. "I slept six or so hours each night."

Vilkas bent to pull his trousers down completely, more or less ripping them off in a mad effort. He cursed when remembering he hadn't removed his boots earlier. Arellea giggled.

"Were you hurt during any of your missions?" she asked him.

As he kicked off his first boot, he shook his head. "The one raid on a bandit hold I participated in was with Aela and Farkas. Our numbers made that avoidable. I was hit by a troll- nothing a potion and few day's rest couldn't fix." He finished the last part of his answer quickly, recognizing the panic building in her eyes.

The second boot was kicked off, and he lifted his feet out of his trousers. Arellea wiped the bead of pre gathering on the crown of his cock. She slid her hand down his length, massaging his balls with teasingly light touches.

Vilkas kissed her roughly, growing sloppier the closer he came to being undone. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, Arellea opening her mouth against his, deepening the kiss. She arced into him as he played with her clit again, her moan caught between them.

Easing her hand from his length, he pulled her to the bed. He sat down upon the edge, caressing her waist and guiding her to him.

She straddled his lap, her core hovering over his erection. He stroked her slit with his cock, slow and hard. Her whimper did nothing to hurry his set pace. There had been nights where this deliberation, this thoroughness, had her reaching her peak.

"One last question," she began, kissing him deeply, longingly.

"Hmm?" Vilkas hummed against her lips.

"Did you miss me?"

He paused. Taking her face in his hands, he rested his forehead against her. "Every day. Never did I think that I could long for someone's presence as I long for yours, love."

Arellea lowered herself onto his member, hissing as he parted her and filled her in a delicious sensation.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, in turn. He encircled her waist with his arms and continued to rock his hips in a building momentum. She pressed herself flush to him.

"Every day," she said, adding shortly after, "The quiet was maddening without you to share it with."

She moved with him, rolling her pelvis, rising and falling around him.

He turned them over so her back was resting on the bed with her legs curled around his torso. Framing her face with his arms, Vilkas kissed her.

"What do you wish of me?" he asked, his icy blue eyes taking in the warm cobalt of her gaze. He curbed his pace, thrusting with slow, measured movements.

"Take me," she whispered. "I want you. All of you."

Her husband nodded. At Arellea's request, he thrust into her at a harder, faster pace. Her legs twitched around him, and her breathing grew disjointed.

He felt a familiar heat coil deep in his stomach. He was close, but he refused his release. Not until he had pleasured her. Not until she first, had melted into a boneless euphoria beneath him.

He kissed the ridges of her throat, her pulse racing against his lips.

She came undone, her legs going slack around him. She yelled out his name, and he finally sank into his own climax, spending himself inside of her.

"I love you," he said.

Arellea ran a hand through his hair, eyes beading with tears while her usual, unbridled smile broke over her face. Even after three years, the words brought her such happiness. He stroked her jaw, laying gentle kisses on her forehead, nose, and mouth.

"And I you," she said. "I love you."

He withdrew from inside her, leaving the bed to fetch the cloth and washbasin. He cared for her first, before turning to wipe himself clean.

As he set the basin aside, Arellea pulled the bed covers back. She settled onto the left side of the bed- Vilkas's claimed share, taking in his smell. He may never openly admit it, but he wore a discreet cologne procured from a merchant of Cyrodiil. The scent of cedar lingered on his pillow, mingling with his musk.

The room slowly darkened as Vilkas extinguished each candle, til only a faint halo lit the far corner. He left one alight for Arellea, who disliked the prospect of sleeping in the pitch black. He joined her shortly after, slipping in beside her. He looped his arms around her center, pressing kisses to her bare shoulder.

"I have one more question," she said.

He eased himself closer to her, his chest now flush against her back and their ankles tangled together. "And what is that?"

She bit her lip. "Do you think this house has room for one more?"

Vilkas lifted his head from the pillow. "One more…?"

Taking his hand in hers, Arellea guided his palm to rest flat against her stomach. The soft swell was slightly more pronounced, he realized. His heart leapt into his throat.

"Do you mean…" He couldn't find the words.

"I do," she said.

She turned over on her back. Vilkas cradled her jaw in one large hand.

"Are you alright?" Arellea asked.

"Yes," he said, the words soon leaving his mouth in a jumble. "I just… we… we made a…?"

"We conceived a babe, yes," she said. "Once I found out I came home as soon as—"

Vilkas crashed his lips into hers. She realized then that his cheeks were wet with tears.

"I love you," he said, repeating the words over and over whenever he pulled back for a breath. "When is the babe due?" he asked, nuzzling her neck.

"Not for another six months," she replied.

"Do we know if the little one will be able to use magic? Like you?"

"Only time will tell."

"We could have the child train with the Companions. Not unless you agree, of course. What do you think?"

"The Companions are our family. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Could the child use the Thu'um?"

"By the Divines, I hope not! It is unlikely though. The blood of the Dragonborn doesn't surface in every generation."

"What if someone kidnaps—"

"Vilkas," she interrupted. "Love. Don't fret so. Our child will be safe and protected. We will make certain of that."

His hand rested on the slight swell of her stomach. In near reverent awe he whispered, "To think that we would have one of our own…" His eyes swiveled to hers, two bright pinpricks in the near dark. "Will you be traveling still?"

"I had intended to."

"Arellea." He propped himself up on an elbow. "What if you're hurt? What if you're trapped somewhere? What if you aren't close to a city of some kind and go into labor?"

She thought for a long, drawn out span of time, her eyes trained on the sloped ceiling overhead. "We haven't traveled together in ages," she said, finally. "I miss having you at my side. In battle and in bed. The fireside isn't so welcoming if you aren't there."

"You wish for me to accompany you?" Vilkas asked.

"I do," she confirmed. "Until travel isn't safe for the child, at least."

Vilkas smirked. "I would be honored, Harbinger."

Her mouth twisted into a sour moue in response to the honorific. "In bed, Vilkas? Truly?"

He let his hand drift from her belly to the juncture of her legs, where he proceeded to run a finger over her slit. She released a breathy moan.

"I look forward to it," he said, kissing her tenderly.

Arellea wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. Their lovemaking carried into the early hours of the morning where, finally, they fell asleep in the other's embrace. No one in Jorrvaskr would question their late appearance, knowing well enough that these homecomings were cherished and sacred.

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically me doing an examination of a relationship that will be at the center of a fic I want to write in all eventuality. The first few paragraphs were me trying to establish what sort of start to the relationship they had at the beginning. After replaying the Companion questline, I gathered that Vilkas was genuinely suspicious because he didn't know the Dragonborn and probably was under the impression that she wouldn't stick around for long (Farkas said the Companions had a hard time holding on to recruits). I realize there is more to it than that, and when I get the chance to write the fic, I'll be able to explore those reasons at a more in-depth level.
> 
> I started replaying Skyrim recently to help burn some stress. My roommates, being the amazing people they are, gave me the Legendary edition of Skyrim as a holiday gift. That means I have Hearthfire. That means I was sitting there for three hours saying YAAAAAAAS whenever I came across a new area, alchemy ingredient, plot point, or general add-on.
> 
> Thank you again for reading!


End file.
